


i come apart at the seams (so you can stitch me back together again)

by okamiwind



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Comeplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 01:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19307980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okamiwind/pseuds/okamiwind
Summary: Ten is the shot, and Kun is his chaser.





	i come apart at the seams (so you can stitch me back together again)

**Author's Note:**

> [presents you garbage like a cat dragging a dead bird to your doorstep] please enjoy

It’s fun to play pretend. 

Ten sees him, locks eyes with him immediately upon his entrance to the museum, but he dutifully ignores him. After all, that’s part of this. It’s all scripted, and in that, there is a funny comfort. 

They keep their shit on the low. It’s too dangerous to do anything besides, but that isn’t the only reason why they do it.

He can feel Kun’s eyes on him as he moves through the crowds of people. He knows what he looks like. He and the coordinators put a little more effort than usual into the selection of his outfit, went a little more out of the box than he normally would. His outfit is sickening, a pink silk shirt that’s unbuttoned a bit past his chest. They dusted his collarbones and his breastbone with a golden highlighter that catches the light when he turns. His shoes are slide-sandals in peach satin, and they’re _extremely_ comfortable. He’s got baby’s breath and spray roses pinned through his silvery-pink hair, recently dyed, which gives the whole look a sort of dreamy vibe to it, save for his bag. The centerpiece of the look, in truth, are the pants, which are skin-tight and floral.

As a model, Kun is afforded more freedom than Ten is with fashion which is a fucking tragedy, because if Ten is the judge, he would say that he is the more fashionable of the two of them. Not that they’re a _pair_ , but… 

Well, who is he fucking kidding at this point? 

He hides a smirk as he walks, and he gets called over by multiple people as he tries to make his way to Kun. People wanna talk about his new album, his new tour, his latest fancam that’s gone viral on Weibo _and_ Twitter. He doesn’t blame them, of course. He’s very interesting. But there’s something more interesting waiting, so he answers questions, takes the compliments as gracefully as he can manage, but ultimately, he keeps his eyes on the prize. 

It’s hard to feign a bored look. The museum is beautiful, the Palazzo Nuovo stunning in gold and marble. They stand next to precious artifacts, sarcophagi and mosaics and busts, Dying Gaul drawing a crowd as they meander through, pretending to know what they’re looking at. 

The script for the event goes as follows: they know of each other, but they do not _know_ each other. They’ve followed each other’s careers with the vague sort of interest you pay to someone who you’re attracted to, but too busy to reach out to. They’ll meet, they’ll play it cool, they’ll watch the show and sometimes, they will watch each other. And then… 

Ten makes his way over as things are winding down, the more eager of the attendees already starting to filter into the showroom. Kun stands in front of a statue, staring up at it, and Ten stands next to him silently for a moment, before turning. 

“Hey,” Ten says. “Kun, right?” 

Ten’s told Kun he should start auditioning because his acting is so fucking good. He reacts so genuinely shocked to hear someone beside him, eyes going slightly wide as he sees Ten staring back at him. But it’s all according to plan, and that’s what makes Ten want to keep following along. He really gets Ten in the spirit of things. 

“Oh. Yeah. Ten, right?” Kun says, and he reaches out, eyes glazing over Ten’s body so lazily that Ten can almost imagine the touch. “Nice to meet you.” 

His hand sits there between them until Ten takes it, shakes it firmly, like he’s trying to impress someone’s father. 

“Yeah,” Ten says. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

There is no one around them, a little bubble granted to them, and it’s lucky. They can play as much as they want. 

“Yeah, same,” Kun says, and again, his eyes run over Ten’s body, skimming along his shoulders. “I like the bag.” 

Ten looks down, the chain of the spiked ball bag dangling precariously off his shoulder. The Cruise is emphasizing purses, so he thought he would try and fit in a little. 

“Thanks,” Ten says, and he shifts his hips, cocking one to the side because he knows how it makes the line of his body look. Tempting. “You look nice.” 

And it is not a platitude. Kun always looks good, with his signature light blond hair with dark roots, the subtle undercut that’s starting to grow in, his blushing cheeks, his dewy skin, his red lips. There is nothing that isn’t exquisitely handsome about him, and whoever dressed him, they deserve a raise. He’s wearing a vintage lilac windbreaker, an abstract pattern of purple, blue, and yellow adorning him, the embroidered Gucci logo at his chest. 

It’s unzipped, and he’s wearing a thin, near see-through white t-shirt underneath it, two thin gold chains around his neck, a pair of sunglasses hooked over the neck of the shirt. He looks deliciously douchey. If you’re looking closely, and Ten is even though he’s pretending not to, you can see his nipples through his shirt. And Ten just wants a taste. 

But not yet. That’s not how the script goes. 

They stare up at Venus. She’s got a hand covering her breast, one thrown over the dip between her legs, and Ten can appreciate art when it looks like the curves of a body he knows. He can feel the heat simmering through him at the memories of them together, at their bodies moving like they were born to do so. They are pretending only to know each other as strangers. They are pretending like they can hold back the attraction, the arousal, when they know they can’t. They will wait until the afterparty. They will pretend like it was spur of the moment, a whirlwind of champagne and sweat and sharing breath. 

“Well, nice meeting you,” Ten offers as he turns away. “Enjoy the show.” 

“Yeah,” Kun says blankly. “You too.”  
  


♕

The show is interesting enough, but Ten keeps crossing and uncrossing his legs as he feels Kun looking at him. It is never for very long, just a second or two, but it feels like so much more. He remembers the last time they got to spend the night together. He remembers the feeling of Kun’s skin on his. He’s so bad at pretending. He’s so bad at playing along.

Under the cover of near darkness, Ten looks over, and for the first time since they spoke, their eyes meet. There is so much heat in that simple little gaze, and Kun looks away quickly as if he’s been caught staring. Ten lets himself linger, attempting to look bored as he eats Kun alive with his eyes. 

Models walk up and down the catwalk, their looks daring and experimental and fresh in the middle of the low amber light, and Ten doesn’t pay attention to any of it, just wants it to be over so they can start into the real dance. 

Alessandro Michele does his walk at the end, and everyone cheers as he strolls past, hands clasped in front of his chest like he’s thanking them all. Ten doesn’t need his thanks, though. Getting to be in the same city, having a reason for a rendezvous, the chance to see Kun smile in person rather than over FaceTime… that’s thanks enough.  
  


♕

They met through a mutual friend, another solo idol who got his start through modeling. _Winwin_ is huge all over China and Japan, and Ten had been on variety with him before. Ten always liked him, always got a kick out of how pure he was in an industry that revolves around the impure.

They met up for dinner when Ten was on tour, a three-day stop in Tokyo, and Sicheng stared at Ten over a glass of water. He was on a diet, and Ten didn’t know why. He was already skinny as hell. 

“You should come,” Sicheng said, and with a little shake of his shoulder, “there will be cute boys.” 

“There are always cute boys,” Ten said. 

“This one’s _cute_ cute.” He speared a cut of his steak with his fork, popped it into his mouth and moaned, his eyes squeezed shut as if in the throes of pleasure. Apparently, if it was keto, it was cool. “Seriously. You know Kun?” 

He did know Kun, in the distant sort of way he knew everyone. 

“Yeah,” Ten said. “What about him?” 

“He’ll be there,” Sicheng said. “Down to clown.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

Sicheng smiled, and it was impossible to turn him down. He was just too fucking cute. 

“Come,” Sicheng said. “It’s been so long since yo—” 

“Don’t,” Ten said. “Do not.” 

“I’m just saying, it’s been so long since—”

“I said _don’t_.” 

“Since you’ve had sex with anyone,” Sicheng smiled. “It would be a good opportunity for you, I think.” Ten grabbed his vodka soda, drained the rest of it in one sip. Sicheng pouted. “Now I feel like you’re rubbing my face in it.” 

“That’s how you teach dogs,” Ten said. 

“No, that’s _cruelty_.”  
  


♕

It was a party in someone’s sky-rise, and Ten didn’t know the host, nor did he care to learn. Rich people rent friends by the evening. Ten didn’t know what that was like. Sicheng was stuck to him like fucking glue, his Mandarin beating Ten over the head. He struggled to keep up.

“He likes cats,” Sicheng whispered. “He’s an only child. He likes chocolate. And ice cream too. All sweet things, actually. Hates bugs. He can do magic. Wants to get his pilot’s license.” 

“This isn’t a first date,” Ten whispered back. “I don’t need to know his sun, moon, and rising, you bitch.” 

“You will with him.” 

Ten is sure he looked totally alarmed at that, turning a horrible expression to Sicheng before Sicheng pushed him forcefully forward. 

Kun looked radiant, done down, looking relaxed. His hair was pushed back messily, in that casual, careless way, and he looked even better in person than he did on the billboards. His skin was so clear, his eyes were so bright, and his mouth… 

“Hi,” Kun said. “Y-You’re Ten, right?” 

“Yeah,” Ten said. “That’s me.” 

“Nice to meet you.” He stepped forward, passing his drink to his left hand before sticking out his right. “Kun.” 

Ten didn’t need to know the ins and outs of Kun, knew well enough when he took Kun’s condensation-slick hand in a handshake that they would get along perfectly well for as deep as their relationship would ever be: skin-deep.  
  


♕

That didn’t last. Couldn’t, not with the way that Kun fucked him like he was trying to make Ten fall in love.

They saw each other whenever they were in the same area, whenever there was time, and Ten wouldn’t admit it, not to anyone, but after the first couple of times, he started going out of his way to see Kun. He texted him, set up their appointments. They weren’t very careful, not in those early days. Ten didn’t care. Only wanted more of what he was getting. 

Kun stared up into Ten’s eyes, and there was something so intimidating there. He was looking at Ten like he could see into him, could look right through him if he wanted, and Ten whined as he dropped his hips a little, rolled them, made Kun gasp. He knew how to fuck him now. He knew what Kun liked. It was a terrible thought. 

“Close your eyes,” Ten said, sliding back into Kun, the slick twist of their bodies against one another. “Don’t look.” 

“Why not?” Kun asked, and he looked up at Ten like he was something good. Something special. 

Ten fucked him slowly, shut his own eyes since Kun wouldn’t. He couldn’t fall in love. He didn’t have time for it.  
  


♕

They find each other at the bar, champagne pouring into flutes. They stand on opposite sides, deliberate as they look away from each other. The bartender comes to Ten first.

“Vodka soda,” he says, and the man immediately gets to work. 

The other bartender takes Kun, and Ten listens with interest as he gives his order. 

“Beer,” he says, and Ten keeps his face very still. 

It is a delicate silence between them, the kind you can easily snap in two. Ten watches Kun, and there is so much in his gaze now. So much… anticipation. He lets it flow between them as they sip from their glasses, lick their lips when they finish. Ten looks off, starts to connect the dots between people. One, two, three. He feels Kun on him. Can practically feel the way his hands would settle on Ten's waist. Oh, it would feel so good.

It is slow, the way Kun meanders over. And Ten makes no effort to welcome him, only continues to people-watch, the rest of them milling about, making contact with the high, the mighty, the fashionable.

Kun doesn't even say anything, just looks at Ten hungrily. And Ten can feel it, the growing frustration. The growing arousal.

It is banal when he finally offers up a line of dialogue, their elbows resting back against the bar, so close that they brush up against each other for a moment.

“Enjoy the show?” Kun asks. 

“Yeah,” Ten says, and he adjusts his bag on his shoulder. “It was good.” 

“See any looks you like?” 

“Plenty,” Ten answers, and Kun’s eyes drift down over Ten’s body. There aren’t any cameras here, not in such a tucked away spot. “What about you?” 

“There was one in particular,” Kun says, and his eyes sit where Ten’s shirt is open. It heats along his skin. 

Ten wants to reach out, take Kun’s hand in his. He wants to direct him, pull it to his body, let Kun’s soft fingertips stroke down the line of his breastbone, let the palm of his hand dip beneath the slick fabric of his shirt, down to his stomach. It would be so good. It would feel like coming home. 

"Oh yeah?" Ten says. "Thinking about expanding your closet?" 

It's a bit too comfortable for the script, a little bit of improvisation, and Ten can tell when he looks at Kun, into the dark warmth of his eyes, that he doesn't approve. Ten kind of likes that, though, when Kun doesn't approve. Ten likes to misbehave, and Kun likes to punish. That’s another game, though, for another day. 

"Perhaps," he says starchly. He puts his empty glass onto the bar, smiles at Ten. "I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse me." 

Ten is shocked by it, genuinely shocked, and he watches as Kun walks away from him. He doesn't catch on for a while, not until he sees where Kun is headed with a twist in his hips. _Come follow me. Come catch me._

Ten drains the rest of his drink, the alcohol simmering under the surface of his skin, and he too sets his glass on the bar. 

“Another vodka soda?” the bartender asks. 

Ten only shakes his head. 

He waits exactly thirty seconds before following where Kun led, striding smartly across the floor and pushing open the bathroom door. 

It swings closed behind him, and Ten feigns a bit of innocence as he styles his hair in the mirror. A man is busy at a urinal, and Ten fixes his eyeliner, washes his hands as the man does, and then, the man leaves. 

A stall door pushes open, and Ten makes eye contact with Kun in the reflection of the glass. 

"Funny meeting you here," Ten smirks. 

"Didn't you come here for me?" Kun asks with a tilt of his head, a curve to his lips. "Here I thought I was getting special treatment." 

"Nobody gets special treatment," Ten says. "Not even you." 

It is a callback to one of their first conversations, a clear line drawn in the sand. _Don't cross this,_ Ten thought. _Because I won't cross it, and you shouldn’t either._

"No, of course not," Kun smiles. "I just thought—" 

And he steps forward, his hands on Ten's waist, Kun grinding their bodies together softly as Ten's head lolls back, rests against Kun's shoulder. 

"What did you think?" 

"I thought maybe we could... relieve some tension together," Kun says. "I saw you looking at me." 

Ten holds Kun's hands, begins to work his hips back. It elicits a groan, and Ten takes it with a closed smile. 

"And I saw you looking at me," Ten says. 

"So..." 

"So?" 

He spins Ten in his embrace, a hand on the back of Ten's neck. 

"So, what do you say?" he asks with a little mischievous grin, like they're breaking a law, like they're being _bad_ together. "Wanna go back to mine?" 

This is a one night stand, Ten tries to tell himself, but it's so hard to put himself in the mindset of himself from a year ago. It's so hard to remember what it was like to _not_ want Kun in every empty corner of his life. It's fucking impossible to forget the way Kun has changed him, the way Kun has made him want to cross the line he himself drew. 

"Yeah," Ten whispers as he leans in, lips so close to Kun's that the words themselves feel like a first kiss. "Yeah, let's go to yours." 

He dips in, a chaste, tentative press of their lips as Kun sighs, as Ten sighs, as they sink into each other like they're falling to bed. Ten licks into Kun's mouth slowly, like he isn't sure about it when in reality, it is the thing he is most sure of. He knows exactly how to kiss Kun now. Knows exactly what he likes. Slow, sweeping movements of his tongue, gentle and coaxing like rolling waves. 

When he couples it with a roll of his body, a slow thrust of his hips against Kun's, he moans sharply, and Ten can feel him stiffen up between their bodies. It is an electric feeling. They haven't seen each other since Ten had a week off, and he went to hang out with Kun in Mykonos. The water was so blue, and they barely even saw it. They stayed in bed for as long as they could manage, whenever Kun didn't have a fucking shoot. 

It was forever ago. So long since they've had this. But still, Kun wanted to play. So Ten is playing. For him. 

It’s like he thinks it’s possible to lose Ten, like Ten could get bored of something so fiery and sweet. Like Ten is just a second away from running. Ten kisses him like he’s saying _No, I’m staying._ Kisses him like _I’m stuck with you. You can’t get rid of me._

"God," Kun says, pulling back, a thumb rubbing against Ten's bottom lip. "You're so—" 

"Yeah? I'm so?" 

"Yeah," Kun breathes. "You're so." 

Ten hums pleasantly. "There was a promise of relieving tension. Or is that offer no longer on the table?" 

"Very much still on the table," Kun says. "Nothing has ever been more on the table. This offer is a tablecloth." 

It is the eager excitement of a man who has not gotten laid since the bed and baths at Boheme, and Ten wants to laugh, wants to kiss him so hard that Kun has to drop this shit.

"Then let's go," he says. "Yours, mine. Wherever." 

“People will be watching,” Kun says softly, like someone might be listening to the clandestine bathroom meeting. “So I’ll text you the address. I’ll meet you there.” 

He slowly detaches himself from Ten’s embrace, brushing the sides of his clothes down like it will manage to make himself look _less_ like he just got fucked in the bathroom. And they’d only kissed. Ten is gonna fuck him so good. 

In reality, outside of the script, they both know where they will be meeting. They are in Rome, and they managed to book the same hotel, Hassler Roma. No suspicions besides the ones that always swirl around them. They know room numbers. They’ve already exchanged key cards. 

“Okay,” Ten whispers. “Meet you there.” 

Kun looks at him, stares at Ten’s mouth for too long. Ten can’t resist something like that. He’d have to be dead not to react. 

He surges forward, hands framing Kun’s jaw as they collide into a frantic kiss, everything exploding in a millisecond or less. Their bodies are plastered against each other, and Kun’s hands go to Ten’s ass as they feverishly grind against each other, chests ripped open as they pour themselves out for one another. It is not the kiss of two people who have never met, but what can he say? The fantasy can only go so far. 

Kun moans into Ten’s mouth, and God, if he lets it go any farther, they’ll be fucking in the men’s room, so Ten shoves him back, two hands to the chest, and Kun’s mouth is blood-red when they separate, his perfect blond hair mussed. 

“Hurry,” Kun says. “Don’t make me wait.” 

There is a playfulness about him, and the act wanes between them, but fuck, Ten doesn’t even care. He’s already so hot for Kun that he would drop to his knees right there on the bathroom floor if he thought Kun would let him. 

“Kay,” he says sweetly, and he leans forward, dots a kiss to the center of Kun’s perfect lips. “I won’t.”  
  


♕

Kun is waiting by the time Ten makes it up to his floor, and when the door opens, Kun breaks into a timid little smile. He’s changed, made himself more comfortable. Just a pair of sweats and the see-through t-shirt. And the look on his face, Christ. He is better at this than Ten is. Ten’s too… too excitable.

“Hi,” he says, and Ten doesn’t let him go any further than that. 

They do not get past the door before they are on each other, their bodies tangled as they fervently try and get closer to each other. The only real barrier is their clothes, but when Ten presses Kun against the wall, he puts his hands underneath the thin fabric, strokes along Kun’s skin just to hear him whimper.

It is too early for such things, too vulnerable, but Kun's body can only tell the truth. They're still play-acting the one-night stand, but the way he whines into Ten's mouth as Ten’s hands play at the elastic at his pants... that is the sound of a lover well known. 

Ten swallows the rest of Kun's noises, grinds his body into Kun's just to get more. They taste so sweet on his tongue, and he's always been crazy about candy. 

They push against each other in the little entryway of the room, Ten's thigh slipped between Kun's legs, and they kiss until they are breathless. Ten rests his forehead against Kun's, looks down between their bodies where they are rutting against each other, his hips twisting as he thrusts his hips a little more. 

"Come on," Kun says, and he rolls his hips to match Ten. "Let's move to the bed." 

"No," Ten says. "Just a little more." 

It is a tease for them both, but Ten likes that, likes working them both up so much they forget what the game was. There is something so stupidly good about them when they finally get together, when they make it past all the bullshit and the rumors and the drama. They can just be _them_. They don't have to pretend unless it's the way they want. 

Ten licks lines up Kun's neck and delights in the way he shivers, the sweet way he can't help it. He kisses a little mark there, stakes his claim. _This is mine. All of this pretty boy is mine._

He runs his hands over Kun possessively, along his obliques and his thighs, and he sneaks a hand down Kun's pants just to play with the hard line of his cock through his briefs. 

"F-Fuck," Kun moans. "Please, let's—" 

Ten kisses him quiet, but Ten compromises, moves them haphazardly towards the bed, each distracted by the other. Kun puts Ten's back against the ensuite door, and Ten shuts his eyes as Kun kisses him again, moans because it's been a bit too long since he's had such a thing. They are busy. And there is not much time. When they have the opportunity, they take it greedily. 

Ten pushes him back by the shoulders, keeps moving them backwards until the backs of Kun's knees hit the mattress, and he falls back to the bed. Ten climbs over top of him, straddles him, his stomach flat against Kun's when he kisses him again.

“Fuck,” Ten moans, “ _fuck_.” 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Kun says, but he says it against the sensitive skin of Ten’s neck, his lips wet as he kisses Ten. “You’re so beautiful.” 

That’s too affectionate, too much like he’s a _boyfriend_ , but Ten takes it anyway, because God, it’s been so long, it’s been so fucking long. Ten is voracious for little things like that, insatiable when it comes to Kun’s love. 

Again, he grinds into Kun’s body, rubs their erections together as their clothes start to fall off. Ten feels like he’s overheating, so he pulls himself out of his shirt quickly, struggles to unbutton and unzip his pants as he moans into Kun’s mouth. 

“Come on,” he whispers. “Come on, take it off.” 

Ten struggles back off the bed, shucks his pants and his underwear down. It is then that Kun looks up at him, eyes meeting skin, and Ten cocks a hip to the side. 

“Are you gonna join me?” 

Kun smiles, and he sits up, stripping himself of the see-through shirt before tossing it off to the side. It wasn’t much of a shirt, but its absence is somehow even more exhilarating. He smirks at Ten, a reminder of what they’re supposed to be pretending, and Ten bats it away with his hand as he pulls Kun by the ankles down the bed. 

“ _Hey_ ,” he laughs, giggles, and Ten takes the elastic hems of his sweats, one in each hand and pulls sharply. “ _Hey!_ ” 

“You’re taking too long,” Ten says, and he pulls again, the sweats sliding down Kun’s body, only his boxer-briefs left behind.

“You’re the one who was fucking around at the door,” Kun argues, bitchy, because he’s learned to fight. Ten taught him how. 

“It’s your fault.” He gets up on the bed between Kun’s knees for a second, hands on the band of Kun’s underwear before he starts to pull them down slowly. Teasing. “You’re sexy. So it’s your fault.” 

“Yeah?” Kun asks, and he watches as Ten slowly, slowly pulls the underwear off, flinging them beside the bed. “What are you gonna do about it?” 

“Fuck you,” Ten says. “Really good.” 

“Prove it.” 

And God, Ten is planning on doing just that. 

He lays his body down on top of Kun’s, and he kisses Kun softly, but he pushes his hips against Kun’s, swallowing the desperate moans that rise from Kun's throat. Ten tastes the barest hint of alcohol in Kun's mouth, and he feels himself getting drunk off of it, thoughtless with his lust. He wants, wants, _wants_.

He kisses another mark to Kun's neck, this time sucking and licking the skin long enough that it goes a mottled red, a bruise smeared like paint across canvas. Kun moans, bites his lip to quiet himself but Ten moves, makes room for his hand to slide down Kun's body so that he can circle Kun's cock with his grip.

"S-Stop," Kun laughs, and Ten lets go, instead focusing on stroking the thin skin behind Kun's balls with his fingertips. "A-Ah, please."

"Please what?" Ten mutters, lips against Kun's throat. "What do you want?"

"I want... I want you," Kun says, and they're past the point of no return now, past the point of facades. Kun wants Ten, and Ten wants Kun, and no amount of acting can change it.

Ten kisses down Kun's body, pausing just for a moment to lick and suck at Kun's nipples. They were so tempting, drawing Ten's eye and whoever else's, and that makes Ten want to do something about it. He feels jealous over nameless faces, people who get to see Kun every day, people who get to speak to him and touch him, people who don't even understand how lucky they are. But Ten knows that he's lucky just to even have a shred of this, a piece of Kun's brilliance, the bounds of his light and love unknowable.

"P-Please," Kun says, and he begs like he's been dreaming of this. He tangles his fingers in Ten's hair, holds him gently as Ten moves to lick at the sensitive underside of Kun's pectoral. "Please, I'm..."

"What?"

"I _want_ you," Kun whines, and he sounds spoiled, but Ten can't resist the urge to spoil him. Give him whatever he wants. A stupid roleplay. A kiss. The rest of Ten's life. Whatever he wants, he'll have it.

Ten kisses down the cut line of Kun's abdomen, licks and sucks marks to Kun's flanks. His tongue moves flat over the sharp edge of Kun's hip bones, and Ten listens to Kun pour out sounds like water from a faucet someone forgot to shut off.

But Ten works hard for the noises, all the moans and groans that fall from him, and when he finally wraps his lips around the head of Kun's cock, he is delighted to see the way Kun reacts.

Immediately, his hands move from the back of Ten's head to either side of him, clutching the sheets like he's trying to hold on, like the world is threatening to buck him off. Ten tightens the suction of his mouth, flicks his tongue, and he _feels_ the way Kun's muscles tense underneath him. Ten likes that. Ten likes making Kun lose control.

He lets Kun's cock pop out of his mouth, and it lays flat against Kun's stomach, spit-slick now. Ten runs his palm up and down it, and Kun shivers.

"Put your hands back in my hair," Ten says.

"You hate my hands in your hair."

 _No_ , Ten thinks. _I hate everyone else's hands in my hair. But not yours._

Ten doesn't say it, only moves up Kun's body to take Kun's hands and put them where he wants them. Kun obliges, chest heaving with breath as he smiles, and Ten gets back to work, slipping down Kun's body, his hand wrapped around the base of Kun's cock.

He looks up into Kun's eyes, and he opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out. Kun furrows his brow like he's pleading for mercy, but Ten gives him no such recourse. He taps the head of Kun's cock against his tongue, once, twice, three times, and Kun's head falls back at the sensation or maybe just at the visual.

Ten does it a few more times, letting his tongue go soft and pliant, and when Kun moans brokenly, Ten smiles, sucks him down in earnest, takes in as much as he can without gagging. His mouth is wet, and he lets it pool around Kun's dick as he sucks, licks, tries to pull as many sounds as he can from Kun's chest.

Kun's fingers pet through Ten's hair, and his scalp is sensitive, but Kun is careful, gentle the way he is in all things, and Ten moans around Kun's cock, letting the vibrations work their way down.

Ten is diligent as he pulls Kun to the edge, giving pleasure as best as he knows how. He knows what Kun likes, knows that if he dips down, fingers tight around the base as he mouths at Kun's balls, laving his tongue...

"S-Stop, stop, wh-what are you trying to do?" Kun laughs, and he pulls Ten up, kisses him quickly with a moan. He whispers against Ten's lips. "You want me to come already?"

 _Yes_ , Ten thinks. _Yes, I just wanna make you come over and over again._

Ten smiles as he sits up between Kun's legs, sitting back on his heels, hands in his lap. He looks at Kun, looks at the way his body is blushing now, red all over thanks to Ten's mouth. He looks at the small smile on Kun's lips, his wet lips.

"What?" Kun asks.

"Just... Just looking."

"Okay," Kun says quietly.

Ten lays back down, their bodies forming a tight, unyielding line, and they kiss for what feels like forever before he can't take it anymore, can't hold back anymore. He leaps off the bed, rustles through Kun's bag on the floor, and by the time he turns back to the bed with the lube and the condom, Kun is sitting up, staring at him.

"Lie down," Kun says. "Let me."

Ten wants to say no, wants to tell him that if _Kun_ is the one opening him up, stretching him out, he'll have a hard time holding out for Kun. He'll struggle to keep himself composed. He won't be able to tell Kun that it's too good, that he's too overwhelmed, the words lost in the whirlwind of his own arousal. He'll come, he thinks, if Kun is touching him. It's been too long, and he's been thinking about it too long.

He’s weak to Kun, and he’s weak to his own desire. 

He lies down on the bed, spreads his legs neatly as Kun parts them, his fingers wet as he pets along Ten’s body. Ten sighs so that he doesn’t moan sharply, but when Kun continues to tease, Ten draws breath through his nose. 

“Come on,” he says, and he hooks his heels around the small of Kun’s back, pulling until Kun goes off-balance slightly. “Get me ready.” 

He lowers his legs back to the bed, gives Kun room to work, and Ten gasps when Kun actually gives him what he wants. The tip of his finger slips inside, and the feeling is familiar. He shuts his eyes, wills his body to relax. 

“You’re tight,” Kun says. And he leans down, presses kisses to the insides of Ten’s thighs. “Really tight.” 

Ten bears down just to spite him, and Kun’s finger slides in up to the second knuckle easily. Kun smirks down at him, pushes it in as deeply as it’ll go, and he curls it up, the pad of his fingertip stroking cleverly. Ten hates him, he hates him, he _hates_ him.

Ten’s body arches off the bed, limbs trembling as Kun touches him. Shocks zip through him, sending wave after wave of lust, love, some messy mix of the two. 

“Feel good?” Kun asks, and he draws the finger out, only to slip a second in alongside it. “Do you like it?” 

Ten bites his lip, and he nods silently, tries to stem the rising tides as Kun fucking decimates his resolve. No one’s ever known his body so well, no one’s ever known _him_ so well, and the thought, coupled with the intense stimulation, the touch and the kisses and the way Kun’s breath is warm on his thighs… it’s enough to make him come.  
Kun milks his fingers expertly, the wet sounds echoing in the room, and it should be shameful, should sound lewd and obscene, but it reminds Ten of when they first met, of the first night he spent in Kun’s bed. It reminds him of learning, of settling into each other. It reminds him of finding a rhythm and then keeping time with it. 

There is so much heat between the two of them, building like a fire of smoke and ash, and it will burn them both alive if he doesn't stomp it out quick.

"S-Stop, stop," Ten moans. "It's too good. I'm gonna come."

“Then come,” Kun says, bidding him forward with another thrust of his fingers. “Come for me.” 

It’s too intimate, the heat too sweet, and Ten can’t hold onto it any longer. He lets it burst forth from him, lets it soak them both, lets the world drown in him. He comes, his body wracked by the shivers of pleasure, and he tenses all over before his body forces him to let it go, to let all the tension build along his muscles go, a shuddering release as he moans _Kun, Kun, Kun_. 

He feels like he’s underwater, and for a moment, he is dizzy, eyes fuzzy as he returns to consciousness. 

“Fuck,” he moans. “I think I almost blacked out.” 

Kun laughs, and he lays himself alongside Ten, an arm under Ten’s neck so he can rest on Kun. He moves gingerly as he slips his fingers out of Ten. Ten groans when he withdraws, groans even deeper when he starts to play through the come striping Ten’s stomach. 

“Ugh,” Ten says weakly. “Gross.” 

“What’s gross?” Kun asks, and he skates his fingers through, wet on wet. “I think it’s hot.” 

Truth be told, in his post-orgasm haze, he thinks it’s hot too. He is even more desperate for touch after he’s come, and Kun gives it to him in spades. Ten moans as he looks down at Kun’s hand on his stomach, like he’s marking him. Equally possessive. 

They rest for a while, kissing, absently touching each other, but Kun’s erection does not waver, and eventually, it demands Ten’s attention. 

He reaches down, strokes his fist down it, and he lets Kun’s answering moan echo in his mouth. 

“We don’t have to,” Kun says, even as he’s thrusting his hips in time with Ten’s hand. “If you don’t want, I mean.” 

“I want,” Ten says, and he pushes Kun by the shoulder, knocks him over until he can climb over top of him. “I really want.” 

Kun moans as Ten reaches down, takes Kun’s cock in his hand. He reaches over blindly, searches through the sheets until he finds the condom, and he tears the foil with his teeth. He rolls the condom on deftly, the tip pinched, and he wets his hand along his stomach, still sticky, before slicking Kun up. 

“Ten,” he moans. “Ten, I—” 

“Shut up,” Ten says, and he raises himself up on his knees, sinks down, shattering the words from both of them. 

He works himself steadily to a rhythm, Kun’s hands coming to rest on his hips, and he moves, twists, rides Kun until his mouth is dry, until he needs to kiss Kun just to wet his lips. 

“F-Fuck,” Kun stutters. “Ten, _fuck_.” 

It feels brand new, it doesn’t feel like pretend at all. Every time, it feels like when they met, something new, exciting part of the world he’s discovering for the first time. 

He fucks himself hard, the sounds of their skin slapping, the bed bouncing with the movement of their bodies. He shuts his eyes, lets his head hang back, and Kun groans. Ten’s gaze is drawn to the sound, and when he looks, Kun has his eyes screwed shut, his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Look at me,” Ten says. And Kun opens his eyes slowly as Ten slows himself, pausing to move his hips in a circle, fully seated. “Look.” Kun flicks his eyes down to wear Kun is buried deep inside Ten. “This is how I always want you.” 

Kun snaps his eyes shut, and Ten puts his hands on Kun’s chest, working his hips up and down, and their moans fracture the way glass breaks apart, the sharp dust glittering along them both. 

He kisses Kun, their stomachs pressed against each other’s, and he licks into his mouth, tastes all the love he has there. Even when they can’t say it, it’s there, and that’s what matters. They work, they fight, and they fuck, but most of all, they… they love each other. 

It is not long before Kun comes inside him, his feet planted on the bed as he thrusts up and into Ten. It is too good, the way Kun sounds and the way he looks and the way he moans _Ten_ , much too good, and Ten feels himself back on the brink again just from that. 

Kun wraps a hand around Ten’s cock, lets him push his hips back and forth madly, frenetically, even as he suffers through the sensitive aftershocks of his own orgasm. 

“Come,” he says. “Come on, Ten. Come for me.” 

Ten listens, overwhelmed by the position he’s in, caught between the magnanimity and avarice. He wants more. Always more. More of what? 

He spills out over Kun’s body, the truth spilling out of him in the same breath. More of _Kun._

After all the noise, there is a thick quiet. 

Kun holds him, arms wrapped around Ten’s back, and Ten knows he should get up, but… just for a while, he tells himself. Just a little while longer.  
  


♕

When Ten finally goes to the bathroom, it isn’t long before he hears Kun padding in behind him. Ten stands at the sink, stares into the mirror, at the way his drying sweat shines in the low light, and Kun’s hands come to his waist, sliding down to hold him by the hips. He presses their bodies together, a soft recreation of just moments before, and Ten sighs when Kun steps away, flicks the water on to let it warm.

They don’t speak. There isn’t much need for words yet because they fuck each other stupid each time, too useless for words. All there is to do right now is wait until they’re washed clean, wrapped up in terry cloth and the warmth of each other once more. 

Kun sticks his hand into the spray, and he apparently deems it worthy, because he sticks his wet hand out to Ten, and Ten grabs it, lets Kun lead them both inside. 

The water is blood warm as Kun puts his arms around Ten’s body, and they stand under the shower. His hair falls into his face wetly as he leans his forehead onto Kun’s shoulder. Kun’s hand moves down Ten’s back, and Ten shudders. Once upon a time, he would have bitten back such a movement. He doesn’t see the purpose anymore. 

Kun kisses Ten on the shoulder as he gingerly washes Ten clean, the tip of his finger slipping inside, and Ten breathes out as Kun takes his time, makes sure he’s thorough. Ten lays an open mouthed kiss to Kun’s neck, licks along his jaw, and he sighs when Kun is finally finished with him, pulling them from the spray to spread soap over their bodies. They are slick as they move against each other, one of Kun’s hands on Ten’s neck, the other resting on the small of his back. 

Ten kisses Kun, and they are so close that it feels like they’re embedded under each other’s skin. The aim wasn’t to rile each other back up, but Ten can’t help himself. There is something so sexual about it, their love so heated that nothing can cool it. 

_Love?_ , Ten wonders to himself. _Yeah, I do love him. Always have._  
  


♕

They dress silently, though they don’t dress entirely. Kun wears pajama pants, blue plaid, and they sit low on his hips. Ten only wears a pair of Kun’s boxer-briefs, black, and they stretch over his thighs as they lie next to each other.

Ten watches as Kun reaches across to the bedside table where he left his phone. A smile blooms onto Kun’s face, and Ten finds himself smiling back, just sort of… infected. Kun’s like that, infectious. 

“You wanna read?” Kun asks, and without waiting for Ten’s answer, he turns the screen to face him, starts scrolling through a Twitter Moment appropriately titled _Cold reaction at Gucci event suggests trouble in paradise for KunTen and their shippers_. 

It has been their cigarette for months, skimming over as the reactions dance up and down based on how they move. The psychoanalysis, the proselytizing of those who live their lives on the internet, it was fun to poke fun at it, but Ten is over that now. Who gives a fuck what they’re saying when they don’t know the truth? Or anything close to it? 

They ask _will they or won’t they_. Kun and Ten found each other a full year ago and told each other they will, they will, _they will_. 

Ten laughs as he swats the phone away, tucking his face into the hollow of Kun’s neck as he huddles in close, pressing a kiss to Kun’s throat. They play their games, they have their fun, they sleep in separate beds, and they live in different high rises, but he can’t lie, wouldn’t even want to. 

Home means one man. 

There is an electricity about honesty, something shocking and beautiful about it, and this is the only place Ten can be himself, his _true_ self, the person who he wants to be. Ten is the shot, and Kun is his chaser. 

“It was fun, though,” Kun says. “Wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Ten says. “It’s always fun to play pretend.” 

“But?” 

“But… it’s nice. Being here with you. You know, just this.” 

He looks up, and Kun looks down at him, and there is a razor-thin second before they bridge the gap, kissing each other with the ease that only comes from practice.

“You’re getting so soft,” Kun whispers, and the words skim along the empty space of Ten’s mouth. “I remember when you were—” 

“Hard?” Ten smirks.

“No.” He holds Ten’s face in his hand, and it is so tender, so sweet, that Ten has to close his eyes, can’t bear to look into Kun’s eyes as he touches him with so much affection. “But you were much more closed off than you are now.” 

“Yeah,” Ten says, because it’s easy to admit things to the dark, not to the bright light in Kun’s eyes. “I didn’t like having feelings.” 

“I know.” 

Kun reads through everything, can hear the words that Ten won’t say. _I didn’t want to be vulnerable with someone because it’s like handing a knife to them, praying that they won’t cut you with it. I didn’t want to give my knife to you, but I did, because I liked you, because I couldn’t stop myself from liking you. And I thought that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t. You didn’t cut me. You just threw the knife away, gave me a knife of your own._

They lay in each other’s arms, and Ten thinks back to when they first met, the way he spoke to Kun. Harsh. Barbs studding the end of each serif. That’s the way he protected himself back then, pretending like he wasn’t already in too deep. But Kun didn’t buy it. Thank God for that. 

“Did you ever once think I was being mean?” Ten asks. “Did I ever hurt your feelings?” 

“Nah,” Kun says, and he is staring up at the ceiling, his arm around Ten’s shoulder, wrapping him up in a warm embrace. “Even in the beginning, I could tell…” 

“Yeah?” 

Kun turns onto his side, smiles at Ten. “You know that scene in New Girl where they talk about White Fang?” He presses a kiss to Ten’s collarbone, and Ten holds back a shiver. 

“Yeah,” Ten says. “What about it?” 

“You were always White Fanging me,” Kun says, and when Ten looks over, he has the prettiest grin on his face, straight white teeth, fucking _blinding_ happiness. “You thought I was stupid. But I’m not stupid.” 

“No. I never thought that.” 

“Gullible, then,” Kun amends. 

“Gullible,” Ten agrees. 

“But I’m not gullible.” 

“No,” Ten says. “You’re persistent. And perceptive.” 

“And that’s a good thing,” Kun says. “Right?” 

A calendar year ago, Ten would have never answered how he felt. A calendar year ago, he would have rather climbed out the window and down the fire escape. But much has changed in a year. 

“Right,” Ten says. Because there is so much to love about Kun, so, so many good things. 

Ten wonders how a smile so bright could possibly get brighter, but Kun always manages to do the impossible. 

Kun leans down, and he kisses Ten firmly, and even just the taste of him suggests that this is something that will last much longer than either of them had anticipated that first time they met. 

Kun touches him gently, carefully, and Ten wasn’t used to that before, but now he is. Now, he craves it. Sinks into the sweetest whispers, the softest and most deliberate glances of their skin. He wants it. Wants it badly. 

A hand trails across Ten’s chest, doesn’t linger, just a stroke, and Ten pushes up to meet it, his ribcage moving as he draws a sharp breath. 

“Again?” Kun whispers. 

_Again?_ Ten thinks. _Don’t be silly. Not again._

_Always._

**Author's Note:**

> well that was something. i hope u liked it. i love kunten. absolutely cant get them out of my head. anywho, i hope you have a great day! love you! 
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/okamiwind) | [my curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/okamiwind)


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